Here Comes the Sun
by Felar
Summary: AU also called Earth 2 Lois and Clark as mentioned in episodes Tempus Anyone?, Meet John Doe and Lois and Clarks. It turns out the AU Lois is still alive like H.G. Wells alludes to in the last few moments of Lois and Clarks. But her life is anything but roses.
1. Chapter 1

Here Comes the Sun 1/2

Intro & Disclaimer:  
First off, many thanks to my allustrious Beta Reader Virginia R, who was dauntless in attacking the innumerous spelling errors even Lois would cringe at. She was wonderful and very understanding when RL kept me from getting back for days and most recently weeks on end.

This was part of the Summer-Fic-a-thon challenge, albeit a little later than I would have liked. I do have ideas for a sequel, but for the moment it's on the back burner.  
This is my first fanfic to these boards, so if I missed some etiquette, I apologize. Please know it was not intentional.

As always I don't own these characters, nor do I make profit from these endeavors. This is just for fun.

This is a vignette and stars the AU Clark and Lois.

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Lois

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Here comes the sun, another brutal, betraying, sunrise. Another day in the cane fields, another evening in the kitchens. I don't know the day, the week, or even the year for sure. I barely speak the native language. Oh, I know the curses they shout at us, and the orders, mostly the crude unrefined expletives and imperatives. None of which grants me enough knowledge hold a conversation with any native speaker older than 5. The people they put in this camp were mostly English speakers, 18 currently, 3 have died in the last 6 weeks. Most of my fellow laborers are too sick or depressed to be any real help. Most just work for food and sleep.

But for me, the night is not just for sleep. The night is mine time to do with as I please. My time to think, to 'write'. It's so seldom that I actually get paper... much less anything to write with. So I write in my head, memorizing my exposé on this gun cartel, labor camp, and stewing revolution. Every word I fix into my memory, incessantly repeating it. It's practically a mantra. I recite it my head while in the fields, and I use it as a blanket to keep me warm at night.

My life used to be based on paper, on a paper, the Daily Planet to be precise. Me, a star reporter, at a nationally recognized paper. Now, look at me, another indentured refugee, in a camp. Shaved head, missing teeth, somewhere in middle of Congo... I know, I shouldn't hope anymore. They've probably presumed me dead... years ago.

They've tried to beat all the hope out of us... of me. I've not been the perfect prisoner, I know I should shut the hell up, but sometimes I can't stop myself. Some moron gets too full of himself and attacks one of the girls or the kids and I just act, usually without thinking, drawing his attention away from his target and onto me. I've ended up with more than one broken bone that way. Thank goodness none of the injuries were major.

But even still, somehow, I have hope. Without fail, just before dawn, I look to the west and I'm filled with hope... indefinable, raw, powerful, hope. It's like the universe is telling me, 'Lois, I'm looking for you and I will find you.'

It must have started a year ago or so. At that point, I had almost given up all hope after my first few attempts to get word out on my whereabouts had failed. I was resolved to my washed up fate, to die unknown and be buried in a mass grave.

One morning I woke up before everyone else and just stared to the east, daring the sun to rise. I vowed to myself, 'No, more. It ends today.' I was planning on setting it all on fire. The kitchen, the camp, the forest, everything. I'm not foolish, I knew that we couldn't get out, that the fences would trap us in the middle of the flames, all of us prisoners would surely die. But maybe, just maybe, it would take out all of them as well. And if somehow they managed to get away, then the fire, as grand as I was planning it, would attract attention. So when the site was found and investigated, they would find me. And if I couldn't write the story of the century, I would settle for being part of it.

But that's when I turned around looked to the west, towards my old home, the Planet and was about to say goodbye. I looked deep into the fading black, and I felt it. I froze. All I saw was stars, beginning to be bleached by the oncoming sun. But... I know this sounds weird, but, I felt like I saw it. The smoke trail off the end of the cavalry charge. I believed I could feel this rumble as if tanks were about to top the far hill. It's like all they lacked was a tiny piece of intel. Almost as if all it would take was me shouting, "It's me, Lois Lane. I'm right here, come get me." As if just shouting could get me out of this mess.

Sometime in the last few months, this feeling, it has exploded. Now I can practically taste  
it... It's my freedom... Now, looking out this greasy window in the kitchen I have slept in every night for almost three years, a rare smile breaks across my face. Somehow, I know it's my move. I just have to plan this out. I can feel it, taste it, my freedom and my Pulitzer.


	2. Chapter 2

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Kent

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Midnight. And here I am again. About to turn in after a night of fires, gang wars, and drug busts.

Honestly, I can't complain. I never imagined my life could be this good. I've been given a commission from the Met Police Department, been promoted at the Planet, and found my father's orb in the spaceship that I came here in. I have actually looked at the faces of my real parents.

True, that the Police Commission is un-paid... Well, more of a 'they pay for the things I break', while I do the rescues, trade off. I no longer feel guilty about having to rip doors off hinges while doing my job. Granted I have to adhere to the police policies, Miranda rights and all that, and all the paperwork that comes along with it. But, in all honestly, I love the acceptance and being able to do what I can to help the world. Lana never would have been happy in a life like this.

The radio on my shoulder crackles to life. "Kent, we have a call for back-up. There's a code 54 on the docks."

"On my way," I say into the little black box. "I see them heading out of the warehouse. Which one is our undercover agent?"

"That would be Solenski. He should have a..." I can hear the officer in the looking something up on the computer. "-a 5-point star."

Scanning the people on the ground, I identify the one with the lead star on his person. "Do we have a warrant?"

"Negative, Kent. No internal property searches. So don't scan the warehouses, or if you do keep what you find to yourself. We don't want another case dropped due to unlawful searches. But shots have been fired on outdoor docks. We have a go for an arrest for unlawful firearm discharge on all five and for a possible unlawful firearm possession. Request firearm permits."

"On it, Dispatch." I dive into the path of the cons. "Excuse me fellas," I say, holding out my hands to stop them in their tracks. "You are all under arrest for the unlawful discharge of firearms." The rest of the arrest goes as planned. Read them their rights, cuffed them, and flew them off to the special half-outdoor holding cell designated as my drop-off spot. Bending the bars out to place them in, and back into place when I left.

"Dispatch, this is Kent. I'm signing off for this evening. Is there anything else before I go."

"Negative, Kent. We'll be in touch if we need to, but it looks to be a quiet evening."

"I could only wish." I almost laugh into receiver. I never thought I would ever have the luxury of joking like this with anyone.

"I meant not many sirens." He jokes back. "Honestly, I don't know how you put up with that. I go crazy when I can hear my kids radio at the same time as my television."

"You get used to it, Jones." [i]It's not like I have a choice[/i], I add inside my head. "You take care, and I'll see you tomorrow. Over and out."

I land on the balcony, and take off the Met PD shield and radio.

With being open about who I am I get freedom, but I lose something too. Nothing about my life is really private anymore. Nothing except for this moment. My one piece of the night I get to myself.

I shoot straight up from my apartment, straight up into the atmosphere so high I see the beginning of the sunrise. My private warm bath, in the sun's light before I crawl into bed.

But floating up here I twist around, feeling my cape twist around me. Her cape. I remember her sewing it. I remember her eyes when she saw me in it. I can't help but smile. Then my traitorous mind reminds me of that flight, of that stolen kiss, of her sweet scent... I force myself to stop. Of course I know that's his 'her'.

If only I had a her. Herbert said nothing is impossible, but the Lois here is dead, right? I've scoured all of the Congo, listening for any mention of the name 'Lois'. But there was nothing, nothing but a few refugee camps I helped rescue... and mass graves. I swallow back a lump. There was never any proof she was one of the ones I found in those graves, but to be honest, I wasn't looking for proof that hard.

If I could find someone that I can love and loves me for who I am. Not like Lana who would make me change to be normal, as if I could step into a room and leave the super-side part of me in there. It never seemed sincere to me that Lana said in one breath 'I love you' but in the next said 'now change.' It wasn't that I was never tempted to change for her, I just couldn't.

Are you alive, my Lois Lane? Just tell me where you are and I will come for you. I'll scour the seas, comb every beach and search every cloud. I'd make time tick backwards for you.

I've said it before, it's strange, missing someone you've never even met.

But I have met you, maybe not in person, but with my heart. I shake my head. Iâ€™m sounding cornier by the moment. I stare at the middle of Africa, looking back and forth through the jungles. I just need a place to start. There's no point in scanning the jungle when I'm not even sure if there is something to find. Even though somehow, somewhere deep inside I know she's out there. I speak my vow, low and straight into the rising sun, "Lois, I'm looking for you and I will find you."


End file.
